>>151162022
>They began their descent. The wooden stairs were old and treacherous, each foot placement demanding the stealth of a highly trained ninja. Grace crept, testing each step.
>Billie, however, moved with the grace of a falling anvil.
>CREAK.
>THUD.
>Billie’s massive pan scraped against the wall.
>SCHRRRRK.
>"Be quiet, Billie!" Grace mouthed furiously.
>"I am bein' quiet!" Billie hissed back, her accent somehow sounding loud even in a whisper.
>CLANK.
>The axe scraped the banister.
>They reached the archway leading into the kitchen. The air was suddenly cold, and the only light came from the open refrigerator, bathing the entire room in a sickly, clinical blue glow.
>The room smelled faintly of last night's gravy and cold, stolen biscuits.
>A small, hunched shadow danced frantically on the far wall, silhouetted by the fridge light.
>They could hear it now, close and clear: a rapid, high-pitched whispering followed by bursts of frenetic, uncontrollable giggling. The sound was both manic and utterly unnerving, like a tiny, hungry psychopath rejoicing in its ill-gotten gains.
>Grace lifted her hands, using the complex, silent signals she’d memorized from spy thrillers.
>She pointed left (Billie), then right (Nellie), then made a large sweeping gesture (flank and surround), and finally a tight circle with her fist (capture!). Pin him! she mentally screamed.
>Billie squinted, adjusting the pan on her shoulder. "Are you makin' a salad, Grace? With all them swoopy hands? That's mighty complex. I thought we was just gonna hit it with the pan and throw mud on it."
>Grace's composure, already threadbare, snapped. She dropped her hands and rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw her own brain stem. "Just forget it! No flanking! Just get ready to move when I say go! We attack straight on, on three! One..."

>>150978625
>She was spilling all the petty, high-stakes drama of her former life to two people who literally defined conflict by throwing mud.
>And it felt... good.
>Like a pressure valve releasing. They didn't understand the context, so they couldn't judge the pettiness.
>She was just about to tell the part about the ill-fated house party where Lily accidentally set off the sprinkler system when a sudden CLATTER ripped through the silence downstairs, immediately followed by a sound that could only be described as a tiny, triumphant screech.
>The sound was instantly familiar: the Chicken Boogie Man had returned for round two.
>All three girls froze. The mission was officially on.

TO BE CONTINUED...

check the previous greentexts: https://rentry.org/Hill-billie

If you are new for the whole Hill-Billie thing and want to catch up this link will help:
> https://rentry.org/Hill-Billie

>Hill-Billie: The Mystery of the Night Burglar (/3)

>Grace stared at her sneakers, now caked in a new layer of grimy mud. The once-pristine white of the soles was a distant memory.
>This wasn't just dirt; it was a gooey, sucking, living thing that seemed determined to swallow her feet whole with every step.
>All because she had said "okay" to a mud-controlling girl who thought her family's history was worth getting stuck in the swampy ground for.
>Billie, however, was in her element. She moved with an easy, almost joyful rhythm, her bare feet splashing and squelching through the muck.
>She gestured grandly to the vast, muddy expanse around them.
>"Ain't this a beaut? You see this here mud, city gal? It's the same mud my great-great-grandpa, ol' Zebediah, won in a huntin' bet back in '32. Fella named Hemlock bet him his farm that he couldn't catch a ten-point buck with nothin' but a rusty nail and a pocketful of pecans."
>Grace just stared. Her brain, accustomed to facts and figures and logical deductions, short-circuited at the sheer absurdity of the story.
>A rusty nail and pecans? She had so many questions, but none of them felt worth asking.
>"Yep," Billie continued, hands on her hips, her voice full of a deep-rooted, almost sacred pride.
>"Ol' Zebediah outsmarted that ol' buck by lurin' it with the pecans and then usin' the nail to... well, let's just say it was a messy, glorious win. Point is," she said, her voice dropping a little, "this ol' farm, this here mud... it ain't just dirt. It's part of our family, you see. It's a part of me."
>Grace's internal monologue screamed. She thinks dirt is her family.

Or /coc/ thread if that's what you look for in the catalog.

Wiki:
https://the-conservatory.fandom.com/wiki/The_/co/nservatory_Wiki

Past threads:
https://desuarchive.org/co/search/text/the-conservatory%20wiki/type/op/

>>149218997
>first of all this looks amazing
Thank you man, here it is complete. I think I'll take a break now though, have to focus on irl stuff.